Lack of independence

I’ve been writing a lot lately, but not publicly.  I have 3 documents saved on my desktop titled Document, Document1 and Document2.  All with thoughts I’m not sure I’d ever share with anyone.

I’ve been going through some major stuff.  Some of it I’m sure is all in my head.  But some of it I know is not.

But there are some things I don’t mind putting out there into the world.  These are the minor things that bug me, but are not causing me to write private, tear-inducing novels that will most likely end up in the trash bin on my computer.  These little annoyances I’m happy to write a blog about 🙂

I was aware that once I became a mother timetables would change.  That I would be living by an infants schedule instead of my own.  But, I didn’t really realize what that meant.  Since I saw Facebook pictures of my friends running 5K races 3 months after their child was born pushing their perfectly adorable babies in jogging strollers, and heard of Mommy groups that meet up weekly at coffee shops and lunch places, I thought it wouldn’t be so bad.  Sure being home by 7pm for bedtime might make going out to eat a rare thing, but that wasn’t so bad.  We didn’t go out to eat that much anyways.

Well, reality comes.

I rarely have time to brush my teeth, let alone put on an acceptable outfit to go for a jog.  In between diaper changes and feedings (the actual feeding takes about 10 minutes – but reflux babies require 30 minutes of sitting up after their bottle – so it’s a 40 minute ordeal at least to feed him), having tummy time and fun time, cleaning bottles, laundry, cleaning up the toys, floor and sheets that end up covered in spit up, and caring for my 15.5 year old dog, there may be some time for me to grab a cracker.  And of course I work from home too – so yeah, there’s no time to jog.

And having a baby with reflux makes public outings very scary.  Because all babies have a little bit of spit up that might dribble on their onesies and may even get Mama’s shirt, but after a quick wipe with a burp cloth, nothing is noticeable.  My kid doesn’t have dainty little spitups.  My kid has monstrous spitups that cover us – he is covered head to toe and so am I, and usually so is the chair or floor beneath us.  And these spit ups come at any time of the day, not just after a meal.  It could be 3 hours post bottle, and here comes the flood.  So going to a coffee shop or lunch place, or even to the grocery store, seems incredibly scary.

So I do most of my outings while someone else takes care of the baby.  This someone else is my Mother.  (My husband for some reason is scared of staying alone with the baby.)  So I’m not only on babies schedule, but on her schedule too.  I never have a say in when I get to go anywhere.  I’m told when.  And that makes me feel more like an infant than my son.

I know this is a tiny thing to complain about, but you never know how much you appreciate being able to go out to grab a sandwich when your fridge is empty or go meet a friend for a walk until you can no longer do so.

Independence has always been a big deal to me – and that has been taken away completely.

Who knew?